Dad

My dad passed away six months ago today. I just realized that this afternoon and I felt compelled to blog about him. I still find it hard to believe he's gone. I guess that's because we don't live near my family, therefore Dad's passing doesn't affect me quite the same way it does those who saw and spent time with him on a regular basis. For the last several years I saw Dad once or twice a year, so not seeing him isn't unusual. It's when something reminds me of him that I stop to think, "Dad's not here," and it's still such a jolt to me.

Dad never went to the doctor, not unless it was absolutely necessary. If you feel good, why go, right? Dad actually suspected he had Parkinson's disease. His mother has it and he was showing similar symptoms. He never even had a family doctor, but because of family members urging him to go for a checkup, he finally relented and scheduled a full physical, complete with a colonoscopy. The rest is like a blur.

Dad was diagnosed with colon cancer sometime in February, if I remember correctly, and had surgery on March 1st. Doctors seemed to think the surgery was a success and that he'd be able to start chemo treatments right away. Other health issues would prevent him from starting chemo, and eventually the cancer spread to other organs and he died on June 6, 2007, just two days shy of his 66th birthday. I still find it hard to believe how quickly cancer took his life.

I was blessed to have been able to visit with Dad days before his death. My brother had been to see him and shared with me his concerns for Dad's survival. I hated leaving my husband and kids, but my both my mother-in-law and my husband urged me not to wait. We never know how much time we're allotted on this earth. It would have plagued me for years had I not been able to see Dad before he died. My husband put me on a plane and I went home to see my dad. As it turned out, Dad and I spent time together over the better part of a week. We held hands and said things to one another that needed to be said. I thought there was still hope for a recovery, even though Dad was weak and very sick. I saw him have one really great day before leaving to return to my family. I will never know if he really felt better that day or if he was simply putting on a brave face for my benefit, knowing it would make leaving easier for me. Regardless, it did my heart good to see him "almost himself."

I left on a Friday and Dad died the following Wednesday. Had I not gone to visit him when I did, I might not have seen him at all, and I know our experience would not have been the same, for hospice had been called in at the very end, and Dad was slipping farther away from everyone by then. God surely orchestrated my visit. It was a blessing, a gift to have had that precious time with Dad, and I'll forever be grateful.

I'm comforted by the fact that Dad was ready for death and was a Christian. He had no doubt about where he was spending eternity. I'm also further comforted by the knowledge that I will be reunited with him when one day we meet in heaven.

Because my parents were divorced when I was 4, and Mom had custody of my brother and me, I didn't spend a great deal of time with Dad. We saw him on a regular basis, once a week, all day on Saturdays. But we shared him with other family members - my grandparents, aunts and an uncle - so there wasn't a lot of one-on-one time. I couldn't know then (or even a few years later) what I know now... that I would truly miss him.

When you don't live with a parent, it's really hard to KNOW them. Dad wasn't a big conversationalist either. He listened more than he talked, didn't reveal a lot about himself, and was a very uncomplicated man, happy to just be where he was, doing what he was doing. There are often certain unpleasantries associated with a divorced family situation, but in all honesty, I think we dealt with those issues pretty well. Dad was not perfect, as none of us are, and he made his share of mistakes, but he never put me in the middle between him and mom. He took whatever attention we were willing and able to give him over the years, and he never asked for more or complained it wasn't enough. Now I find myself wondering about all kinds of things... what his favorite things were, what were his innermost thoughts? I grieve for the loss of the man I knew and the man I'll never know, but I also rejoice for the knowledge that he loved me, plain and simple, and I loved him back.

I suppose Dad's death has shown me more than ever the fragility of life. We think we have all this time, but we never know when it might be our last day, or the last day of someone we love. I'm trying to take better care of myself... spiritually, physically and emotionally. I want to live my life using the talents and wisdom God has given me to glorify Him. I want to take care of my physical health so that I can be around for my family for a very long time. And I want to reach out to those I love and let them know how much they mean to me. Life is short, it's but a breath, and I don't want to waste a minute of it.